


verbatim

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed Peter Parker, Happy Ending, Homeless Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-03 17:42:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19468924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: !HEAVY FAR FROM HOME SPOILERS!Peter was just the friendly neighborhood Spiderman.Peter was a kid from Queens.Peter was just seventeen when his name got dropped for the whole world to see.or: after mysterio name dropped him, he was literally and mentally attacked. the entirety of new york was flooded with reporters. the school was forced to close down. nobody trusted him. even ned, hell even mj had to be careful because they could be used as hostages.tony was gone. sometimes peter wished he was too.come in: stephen strange.





	1. all alone, parker.

**Author's Note:**

> as mentioned before,
> 
> EXTREME. FAR FROM HOME SPOILERS.
> 
> i am a beginner writer, so tips and likewise are appreciated!

"..Is Peter Parker."

Mysterio's voice flickered into the video, and Peter froze.

The people underneath him on the street began to murmur and point up, and he knew his chance of keeping his identity was gone when he saw his face on the screen.

Michelle looked shocked as well, and let her eyes dart up in a panic.

He quickly swooped down and snatched her away before the crowds could bombard her, and flew over the city to her home.

Nothing was processing.

From watching Tony's decayed skull and Ironman suit again, to the traumatic experiences Mysterio had given him, it wasn't exactly the best of ideas to be name dropped so soon.

He felt tears prick his eyes but he bit his lip. 

Dropping MJ off silently was easy.

Now to go home.

..and get greeted with people he never knew.

He shook his head. He knew he couldn't stay home.

He couldn't risk May. Or Ned. Or Michelle.

He felt his chest tighten ever so slowly as he quickly swung to the backdoor of his house and clumsily scrambled through the window, grabbing essentials and writing a hasty note to May.

"Hey May, I gotta leave. When you see this note I'm going to assume you already know. Don't worry about me, I'll try to get in contact once you and everyone else is safe. -Peter"

It was poorly written, but he had no time. He heard a pounding at his door, but he bit his lip and continued packing.

He flew out of the window, startling his neighbor, and thwipped to Stark tower.

He hoped beyond hope Pepper would help. If not Pepper, Happy surely.

He sighed and continued his progress.

//

"Pepper Potts and Happy Hogan are out of the country. Please come back again." The assistant said formally. Peter was inside of a shirt and regular pants, a cap on to roughly hide his face.

"But- it's an emergency." He said desperately. "At least tell me, how long until they'll be back?" He feels panic thrum in his blood, the verge of a panic attack slamming him full force.

"They won't be back until approximately four weeks, possibly more. An assistant is taking over their duties. If you need to see them after, please schedule an appointment." They responded in the same formal tone.

Peter bit his lip. He so desperately wished for Tony, for his warm arms to wrap around him and comfort him as he told him what had happened.

He wished desperately to see him, but wishing won't do anything.

"Alright. Thanks anyways," he bit out, leaving the building and slumping against the wall.

'What can I do? Tony is gone. Pepper and Hap are gone. I can't go to my friends because they'll be in danger of the press. Queens is probably in danger because I'm a fucking superhero.'

He felt hot tears slide down his face as he pulled out his phone.

'Please. Anyone. Someone I can go to.' 

He attempted to call Fury.

No response.

He desperately dialed Maria Hills.

No response.

More tears slid down as he crumpled to the ground.

Nobody to help.

Nobody to come.

Nobody for four weeks or more.

He breathed slowly, before standing up shakily and stepping away into an alley. He clumsily slid on the mask and equipped his web shooters.

Everyone would learn eventually.

He was just a kid.

//

He used to love the rush that gliding around the city gave him.

But no longer.

Now it felt like a panicked rush, just another way to escape cops wanting to arrest him for being an underage superhero who got in trouble.

His mind constantly replaced the cops with Mysterio, unwillingly forcing him to flee at any glance.

He didn't let on how much Mysterio had affected him.

The fishbowl-head had scarred him, causing him to jolt awake on the park benches he slept on every night. 

He had heavy bags under his eyes and his spidey sense detected everything as a threat, leaving him with little to no sleep.

He rationed his food, but food stored in a backpack always runs out.

On day two he had no food.

He couldn't go shopping. He could be cornered and then he'd have to break out of a store.

He can't just starve either.

A snarl erupted from his stomach.

Well. Too late for that.

He moved around by thwipping most of the time, slowly but steadily trying to reach the Avengers compound.

On day eight, he stopped by Central Park, taking a break by the fountain.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around his knees, sitting in a fetal position.

He was wearing a hoodie, roughly covering his face from any onlookers and keeping him safe.

He drowsily felt his head dip lower and lower until he was fully passed out against the fountain. 

A shadow covered his face as a villain took hold of the teenager's collar, lifting the suddenly awake hero up into the air.

"Ah. Finally, I have found you Spiderman," came the low and deep voice of a villain he had never seen before.

Peter pushed weakly at the grip as the villain sized him up.

"Look at you, starving on the streets. Pathetic, even for a weasel like you." Their mocking turned into a sneer. "Weak little brat."

Peter yelped as he was thrown to the concrete, feeling a bone break as his face laid pushed against the hard ground.

"Your identity is everywhere. Did you think you could hide forever?" The villain had dragged him to an alley, pressing against his throat, choking Peter.

"I-" he was cut off by more pressure.

"Don't speak, child." He seethed, harshly slamming the boy to the ground of the dark alleyway. Peter felt tears sprout as the man kicked his fragile body, stomping harshly against his smaller figure.

He expected a kick to the head, hell even the ribs.

All to stop the agony he felt since.. well Tony.

Since Mysterio.

He pressed his eyes closed..

Only to feel nothing hit.

He cracked a lid open, golden sparks filling his vision as the body of his attacker was dragged slowly away. Peter's battered body bled heavily as he watched a tall figure lift him up and take him through the sparkly thing, suddenly finding himself in a different place.

"Poor kid. Maybe he'll feel better with some sleep and treatment." A voice filtered in.

"I sure hope so," said the voice carrying him, depositing him on the first soft contact in a long while.

He felt his conscience drift away like water trickling through open fingers.


	2. he'll be fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ee basically peter's speedy recovery and communication with stephen. a quick perspective change too.

Peter woke up to the steady hum of the electric clock, the ticking noise almost nonexistent through his fuzzy memory. 

The ceiling was a nice cool beige, the soft pillows feeling like a blessing he barely processed as he sank into the bed more comfortably.

He looked to his left to see a steady drip attached to him, and blinked.

He didn't remember that.

His memories suddenly slammed into him full force, and he jolted upright, stitches pulling and bandages ripping off.

"W-where am I?" He said to the open air, panic engulfing him as he flailed in the thick blankets. 

The door flung open as Peter yelped and dove under the covers, heavy breathing giving away he was awake anyway.

There was no noise for a few minutes, before a sigh came from the person who entered the room.

"Peter. Get out. I need to check if you hurt yourself."

Peter's eyes widened, and he peered over the covers. Doctor Strange stood there, an eyebrow quirked, as he patiently waited for Peter to sit up. Peter complied, the pain he expected to feel feeling dulled out and almost nonexistent.

Mister Stra- Doctor Strange examined his injuries as the IV dripped ever so slowly, his calculating gaze revealing no emotion as he scanned his skin with his quivering gloved hands.

"Sir, how did I get here?" Peter asks cautiously. The Doctor merely retracted his hands and tipped his head up to look at him.

"You were badly beaten near Central Park where I was taking a walk. I noticed a large man dragging what looked like a child and I went to help." He sighed, seemingly distressed. "You were unconscious when I picked you up, and the man was eliminated."

He spat the word eliminated like he had actually killed him.

"Ah.. Okay. C-can I ask how badly I was hurt? How long I was out?" He asks slowly, mind still fuzzy. 

"You had several broken ribs and a broken leg but with time you'll get better. You also have one to many lacerations on your arms and side, as well as heavy bruises in many areas." He took a breath. "You're on heavy painkillers, but once you eat some food and water, you'll start to feel the injuries so brace yourself. You were out for ah- a day or two." 

He listed these things with practiced calm as the drugged Spiderman pondered over his words.

He suddenly perked up at the word food.

"Can I have some food? Right now maybe? Please?" Peter begged, doe eyes wide with excitement.

The Doctor hesitated, before responding. "I don't see why not, but you can't have anything too heavy." He warned, helping Peter up off the bed and leading him to the kitchens. The cape thingy seemingly observed Peter, before flying off of the Doctor's shoulders onto Peter's. He yelped, stumbling ungracefully as the cape caught him and lifted him for the rest of the walk.

Several people around his age and older walked around with robes like the Doctor, but were a different color like red.

He was situated into a chair with a back and arms, different to the benches that the others sat in. He fuzzily watched the Doctor ask for a plate from a man, and watched as the man magicked a plate from thin air. Doctor Strange took it back to Peter, pushing the meal to him as Peter just.. stared.

The thin yet delicious smell conquered his instinct to check the food as he snarfed it down, the Doctor watching in mild amusement as the teenager ate the meal like his life depended on it.

Well, his life probably did depend on a meal during his homeless period of time. 

Peter finished the meal in record time, the plate a clean white color as a man took the plate from him. His eyes were shining a bit brighter than before, his matted knotted hair framing his tan, dirty face. He was staring over Doctor Strange's shoulder, causing the sorcerer to turn and see Peter was staring at the many apprentices practicing magic. 

Peter gazed in awe at them, their elegant yet shaky hand movements.

"How about this," the Doctor says. "I'll have you take a shower and you can watch the sorcerers for the rest of the day. But in turn I want you to rest when I tell you so you can recover properly."

Peter nodded quickly, letting Doctor Strange lead him to the shower. The shower curtain was a calming blue, relaxing Peter as he washed off all the dirt and grime from his body and attempted somewhat successfully to pry the knots from his hair.

He eventually left the room feeling fresher than he had before the name drop, eyes bright and ready to watch magic.

Doctor Strange was waiting outside the room, letting out a soft "ah" when he came out. He closed the book and disappeared it, gesturing for Peter to follow him.

The apprentices were rusty, but were learning quickly. Their movements were jerky, Peter noted, but also practiced and attempted many many times. Some were making a golden shield figure. Others were making magic blasts and were teleporting, (or at least trying to.) But what Peter noticed most of all was their sheer determination, their eyes steeled and looking ready for war. He shivered involuntarily.

Wizards were scary.

The Doctor watched him as Peter tried out the movements as well, imitating the circular movement and interesting hand twirling. It was like a dance, something Peter was decent at. He continued to watch the sorcerers as he slowly drifted off to sleep, wet, long hair falling between his eyes and being his focus as he floated away from consciousness.

//

Stephen watched the kid drift off to sleep, and once he was certain that he was indeed sleeping and not dipping his head into his chest, he quickly made a portal and picked up Peter. The boy was surprisingly light, but he supposed that was expected due to his sudden homeless situation. 

He dropped the boy onto his bed, having the courtesy of taking his worn sneakers off and putting him in a comfortable position. He gazed at the boy with a little hesitation, considering changing him into more appropriate clothing, before sighing and closing the door. He really didn't want to intrude into the kid's personal space even if it was to do a simple spell to swap out the clothing.

He was getting soft.

He was there, at Tony's funeral.

He might've not been Tony's friend, but he oh so sorrowfully wished he was. He'd have a reason to take Peter under his wing, cherish him, give him reason.

Because in those 14,000,605 futures he saw, he felt his friendship with Tony in many of them.

But in the one where they won, he couldn't have that warm feeling of friendship.

He only had one friend he could fully trust, Wong. And even then his Beyonce-addicted friend can't help him all the time. 

So Wong didn't understand why Stephen was so sorrowful about Tony's death.

Why Wong was so confused about how Stephen thought it was his fault that Tony died.

He didn't see the thousands of other futures where Stephen cares for Peter one way or another. Where Peter was crying into Stephen's shoulder, trust in him close to but not reaching his affection for Stark or his Aunt.

Stephen sighed as he left the kid's room. His blue eyes were oddly dulled as he walked into his study room, a cup of hot tea sitting on his desk.

He turned around to see Wong, sitting there with his book closed and staring at Stephen expectantly.

"Well?" The other man inquired. 

"Well what? The kid? He'll be fine." Stephen replied, a little harshly at that but his mind was rather filled up and clogged with the other timelines he lived through. He picked up his tea and rose it to his lips

Wong looked vaguely insulted, before continuing. "No, dumbass. You. How are you?" He said, eyes narrowing in concern.

Stephen sighed, setting down the cup. "I've been better. All those alternate timelines are replaying in my head and it's been getting a bit overbearing." He said. The timeline rewinds were going on for a week, each one hitting his mind like a tsunami. He had hoped nobody would notice, but his hopes were in vain.

"Well? If it's been that bad, might as well loosen that burden." Wong stated, arms folding to support his head as he leaned on his knuckles. 

Stephen gave his friend a calculating look, before sitting down on the other armchair and taking a deep breath. "So it all started just over a week before Peter came, this weird vision…"

//

Stephen eventually finished his retelling, Wong giving him an exasperated gaze.

"Seriously? All these visions and you still didn't take some medication?" Wong asked.

Stephen neither accepted or denied the question, giving a subtle shrug. 

Wong exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright. I'll go find you headache medication tomorrow. Today, rest." Wong stressed the word rest as Stephen rolled his eyes. 

"Alright alright Wong. I'll rest. Go tend to your library and listen to your playlist." Stephen said lightly, quickly and efficiently changing into lighter clothing after Wong left.

He settled in thinking about Peter, and wondering if the kid will be okay.


End file.
